


Flight

by posingasme



Series: Too Much and Not Enough [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, BAMF Castiel, BAMF Jensen Ackles, Bartender Dean, Biblical References, Big Brother Dean, Birthday, Castiel's Birthday, College Student Castiel, College Student Sam, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Harvelle's Roadhouse, Human Gabriel, Ink, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Pierced Castiel, Piercings, Protective Castiel, Punk Castiel, Puppy Sam, Tattooed Castiel, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and Sam have been together for eight months, and they are experiencing their first real problems. Big brother Dean is there, and so is some alcohol. We learn Sam's "coming out" story. Summer time in a college town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosworms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosworms/gifts).



> If you have not seen Jensen and Danneel in Ten Inch Hero, go. Now. Charlie demands it.

Charlie was laughing at the screen when Sam walked into the cafe. "There you are!" she called breathlessly. "Get over here. You gotta see this."

Sam smiled at her with a bit of suspicion in his eyes. "What is it? I swear, if it's lesbian porn again, I'm revoking your friend card."

"Shut up. It's a movie. Look at this guy and tell me he isn't exactly what your brother would look like if Cas punked him out."

He sighed and glanced down at a still frame of her movie. "Huh. Wow. That's actually exactly what it looks like. What show is this?"

"It's called _Ten Inch Hero_."

"It's not..."

"No! The guy works at a sandwich shop. Hero. You know."

"I guess."

She pointed at the screen again. "He's Priestly, and he's in love with her. She's the nice slut."

"Uh huh. I thought you were anti-slut-shaming."

"Who's shaming? Girl has every right to however many inches she wants. Except I'm going to cry if she doesn't let Priestly in at the end. Isn't he so Dean plus Cas?"

Sam closed his eyes and sat down across from her. "I really don't ever want to think of those words again."

"What? Cas and Dean?" She considered for a moment. "I don't know. I could ship it."

"You could what?"

"Ship-oh, never mind. Your brother is a growly old teddy bear and Cas is a bitey kitty cat. I'm just saying their love child would be Priestly."

"Please stop."

She closed her laptop and looked him in the eyes. "So?"

He pulled out his computer, but stopped to stare at her. "Um. So? I'm just doing some writing. You're obviously not doing anything important."

"So? What are you doing for Cas?"

He smirked, and opened up his laptop. "You said you didn't want to know."

"No! Ew! I meant for his birthday!”

Sam heaved a sigh and closed the computer again. “Oh, his birthday. You mean…” He cleared his throat and dropped his voice several octaves in an imitation of his boyfriend’s husky articulation. “August 20th, which was the day he made the colossal mistake of climbing out of some woman’s womb and then immediately wished he hadn’t.”

Charlie cringed. “Wow. That’s…he’s kind of touchy about it, huh?”

“A bit,” he confirmed in his own voice. “He equated it with self-worship and compared it to Satanism.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. He probably made sense in his own head. All I know is I’m not supposed to acknowledge the day he dropped out of a birth canal into a flawed, cold world which God abandoned eons ago.”

She leaned back and sighed. “Well, that sucks big ones.” She chewed on her lip. “What about just getting some friends together?”

He shrugged. “I think I better leave it alone.”

“Typical Leo-Virgo. He’s right on the cusp between them, and he’s set in his ways and independent and fussy.”

Sam laughed. “He’s not fussy. He’s just…Whatever. Are you going to watch your movie or what?”

“I need Priestly to get some in the end.”

“If he’s anything like Dean or Castiel, I’m sure he’ll get some in the end,” he assured her.

“Love child,” she sang out.

“Not listening!” he replied in the same melody.

***

Gabriel was filling the apartment with candy again. It was everywhere. Castiel snarled audibly when he found it in the seat cushions.

He received an eye roll. “What? What? You’re growling again, buddy! Knock it off!”

“Stop leaving your food everywhere! How do you even still have teeth?”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Did you just ask me how I have teeth?”

“You suck down more candy-"

 “Than you do dick?”

Castiel glowered at him. “Anytime you’d like to help out, jump right in.”

“Sucking dicks? Yours or Sam’s?”

“No! With cleaning up!” Then he whirled on him. “Wait, what? Does it matter?”

His flatmate cackled. “No, I’m just messing with you. Obviously I’d only do Sam.”

“You’re hilarious. Pick up your socks.”

He stretched himself out on the couch, making it clear he had no intention of getting up to help. “So, who’s the top?”

“Gabriel!”

“I’m curious! I’m not allowed to be curious?”

The blue eyes flashed dangerously. “No. You’re not.”

“Too late,” Gabriel informed him. “I mean, he’s a lot gayer than you are, bro. But he’s also freaking enormous. So how does that factor in? I mean, you’re pretty athletic. But he’s-”

Castiel threw the dirty socks at his friend and stormed into his bedroom. He put on his earbuds to block out the laughter, grabbed one of his books, and reemerged to stalk out of the apartment and up to the roof.

The paranoid psychology major in him was analyzing his mood and finding it disturbing. He had let Gabriel get to him instead of just rolling his eyes and blowing it off. Yesterday, he had snapped at Sam when he had found out about his upcoming birthday, and burst into a diatribe about what was wrong with the whole business of birthday celebration in the first place. He had worked forty hours at the library this week, and nearly twenty-five at the animal shelter, but for once had found none of it satisfying or pleasurable. Instead of relaxing him, his run this morning had made him even more irritable. When Raf had dropped by and been his usual prick self, he had caught himself imagining him bursting into a thousand pieces with a snap of his fingers. While meditating to clear out the violent impulses, he had been restless and unfocused, as if all his years of building up discipline were wasted time. Gabriel had already asked him twice if he was menstruating.

The roof had been his sanctuary for the past three years. Some nights, he liked the quiet. And then there were nights like tonight, when he preferred Bring Me the Horizon blaring into his ears. _Why explore the universe when we don’t know ourselves? There’s an emptiness inside our heads that no one dares to dwell._ Castiel closed his eyes and lay stretched out on the roof, his hands behind his head. _Hold me close. Don’t let me go. Watch me burn._

When he opened his eyes again, Sam was sitting beside him, hugging his knees to his chest. He yelped in surprise, and tore the earbuds out. “Jesus! How long have you been there?”

“Just a few minutes. You seemed really peaceful, so I came over to join you, but now that I can hear your music…It’s a metalcore kind of day, huh?”

Castiel sighed. His heart was still racing from the shock, but he could breathe again. And for the first time, maybe ever, he realized he was not glad to see Sam. A severe frown came over him.

“What’s going on with you, man? Can you talk to me? Gabe even said something to me.”

“What the hell did he say?”

Sam’s eyes widened at the tone. “Just that he’s starting to worry about you. Said he’s been trying to joke around and hang out with you all week, but you won’t let him.”

“That’s because he’s a dick.”

“Yeah, but maybe it’s also because you’ve been in a mood you can’t shake. So? What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing! Everyone keeps asking me that. Nothing’s going on!”

“Dude, it’s been a metalcore day for four days now. And who’s everyone? You been bitchy at work too?”

He moved to put his earbuds back in, but Sam grabbed his arm and gave him such a look of hurt and concern that he stopped. He stared at his own hands for several beats, then shrugged. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“That’s not what I’m looking for, Cas. Did I do something? If you’re angry with me, man, you got to tell me.”

“I’m not angry!” he shouted.

The echo blared back at him, and he watched Sam shake his head sadly. “Okay. Obviously.” He stood and stalked back toward the stair door. Then he turned around. “You’re allowed to be in a bad mood, you know. Anytime you just feel shitty or angry, I get it. But don’t take it out on Gabe, and don’t take it out on me. I’m going to bed. Enjoy your music.”

Castiel stared for another three minutes, then stood and stomped off the roof and back down to his apartment. He threw the door open, and grabbed his car keys. “I’m going out,” he announced, then slammed the door before he could even tell if anyone had heard him.

He thought he wanted solitude. But as soon as he was in the car, he knew where he was headed, and it wasn’t to be alone.

The Roadhouse was blaring country rock, and the place smelled like sweat and beer. He shoved his way in, entirely aware of how out of place he looked among these people without Sam standing beside him. His grey Pantera tee by itself was a tipoff that he was probably in the wrong place, and he had every piercing in at the moment too. He could feel eyes on him as he pushed toward the bar and found a stool.

There was not much of a crowd, just the regulars and some change, but there was a healthy energy in the place. When he sat down, he cupped his forehead in his hands, and just tried to breathe for a few minutes.

“What’d he do?” a familiar husky voice asked him.

He shook his head without lifting it. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’s perfect. A freaking Ken doll.”

Dean laughed in that way of his that made Castiel wonder if he was ever in a bad mood. Probably not. Guys like Dean…Things tended to go their way. “Okay. Then what did you do?”

When he lifted his head, Dean was watching him while pouring a dark beer for the girl at the end of the bar. His hands were always busy, often independently of his attention. He delivered the beer, and set about cleaning mugs while he looked at Castiel expectantly.

He sighed. “I just piss him off, that’s all. He wants me to talk, like all the time, and I just…I just can’t!”

Dean nodded. “I told you. He’s high maintenance, buddy.”

“No. He’s perfect. He’s exactly what he should be. It’s me. I’m just deficient.”

“If you are, then so am I. He tries to get me to talk too.”

The blond girl whose name Castiel could not recall sauntered up to the bar. “Four neat Wild Turkeys, two shots of Goose.”

“Easy enough. Cas, man, you going to order something that might be a challenge?”

Castiel watched him prepare the shots with a look of boredom, and hand them over on a tray to the girl.

“Cas? This just a social call, or you drinking tonight?”

Castiel shook his head. "Just whatever is on tap you need to get rid of."

"You don't have a preference?"

"Yeah," he responded dryly. "Something with alcohol is preferable."

Dean smirked. "Just beer?"

"Unless you need your vodkas tested one by one."

This earned him another laugh. "You know," Dean said, "I really could use some assistance with the vodka inventory."

"Happy to help."

Two hours later, Ellen had gone shot for shot with the man and he had not only kept up, but smiled at her once they had each polished off their lines, and said, "I think I'm starting to feel something."

The crowd had thinned further, and those remaining had applauded and whistled at him.

"Where did you learn to drink, son?" Ellen demanded.

"Where didn't I," Castiel corrected. "I guess I probably hollowed out my leg in Ukraine. But I've been drunk on four continents."

Ellen nodded to Dean. "Kid's drinks are on me!"

"No, ma'am. I don't think you realize what my tab is already."

She barked out a laugh and called to her daughter. "Hey, Jo! Guy thinks I don't run a mental tab on every drunk in the place."

"Sorry, Cas. She's probably got it down to the penny."

"Fair's fair. I said I'd buy your drinks if you could keep up with me. You did. Hey, where's Sam tonight?"

His buzz did not shield him from the cringe. "In bed. Angry at me."

Dean looked up from his sports page. "Wait, what? He's back at your place stewing?"

Castiel shrugged. "Said he was going to bed."

"And you let him?"

Jo whistled. "Ouch."

He frowned. "What?" An uneasy feeling was building in him.

Dean exchanged a glance with Ellen, who just shook her head with lifted eyebrows and headed off to the pool tables to pick up abandoned bottles. Dean cleared his throat. "Man, you can't just leave in the middle of something with Sam. This your first fight?"

He shrugged. "I guess. Not much of a fight. Like I said, he's just pissed."

"Novak," Jo laughed, "Sam is never _just_ pissed."

"What does that mean?"

Dean waited for Jo to check on her tables before answering. "Cas, my brother internalizes everything. Everything. And he has the most screwed up fight or flight instinct I've ever seen. See, if you don't fight, he flies."

Castiel's head was beginning to pound. "Say that again."

"Look. Was he the first one to walk out of the room or were you?"

He thought back. "We were up on the roof. He told me I was welcome to be in a bad mood, but to not take it out on him. Then he said he was going to bed, and he left."

"And then you left."

"Yeah?"

"It's his turn."

His blue eyes widened in alarm. "What? Dean, I don't understand."

"Nobody knows that kid like I do. Nobody's fought with him like I have. And when he's angry, he wants to fight it out. If you don't, he walks away. Runs, usually." The cell phone behind the bar lit up and AC/DC burst out. Dean looked at Castiel with a sad smile. "And there he is."

Castiel frowned deeply.

"Hey, Sammy. I'm at work. What's up? Where..." During the pause, Dean nodded knowingly at Castiel, who tilted his head with confusion. "Okay...No, of course it ain't a problem...Help yourself to whatever you can find in the kitchen, but leave me enough for a sandwich when I get in...No, take the bed. I'll be back late. I'll just crash on the couch...Sheets are clean, jackass...Okay. But, Sammy, did you even try calling Cas? Or did you just skip out?...No, I know he did, but maybe he just went out to get some air, or a beer or something." Dean pulled his hand down his face wearily. "I know, man. I know...Of course you did. You're right...I'm just saying..."

Castiel let his head fall into his hands.

"I'm just...He didn't actually say he wasn't going to hash things out with you...No, I know. But, Sammy, you gotta man up too, and tell him that. How's he supposed to know?" Dean nodded. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you in the morning then." He hung up the phone and checked to see that none of the other patrons were trying to get his attention. Then he sighed. "So? Another round?"

Castiel groaned. "Do I go get him?"

"Only if don't mind your teeth being rearranged. No, let him sleep. This is how he does it. He gets hurt. Then he gets angry and irrational. Then he starts feeling guilty. When he's hurt, he'll literally let you throw punches and never defend himself. When he's angry, you better fight or he'll run. And when he wakes up feeling guilty about it all? You gotta be ready to talk."

"He is...complicated."

Dean smiled softly. "You don't have to tell me. I remember him and Dad going at it when the kid was barely three feet high. Dad never hit him, but I know he wanted to sometimes."

Castiel tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as the man began cutting limes just to keep his hands busy. "Never hit Sam," he repeated. "But you?"

Dean gave a humorless bark of laughter. "What are you, a psych major?"

"Yes."

The green eyes rolled. "Of course you are. No, Dad never hit me as a kid, okay? He and I didn't start brawling until I was seventeen. Angry and full of myself. The first time was when he came back to the campground three sheets gone and started in on Sammy. I don't remember what about. Sam snapped back at him like the little shit that he was, and Dad said...He told him it was his fault my mom died. That she died trying to protect him from the fire. So I threw him into the side of the truck and laid into him."

Castiel swallowed hard. "That's a horrible thing to say to a kid."

"Ain't like you can unsay something like that. You know, I don't think I've ever told that to anyone before. Maybe Pamela. I don't know."

"Thank you for telling me."

Dean looked up from his knife in surprise. "Yeah. Anyway, Sam doesn't have much in the way of healthy role models when it comes to all this. I think he is always afraid of his own temper. I think that's why he runs when the other guy stops talking."

"I never even started talking. I don't know what to say."

Dean shrugged. "Dude, I never know what to say. But Sam needs it, so you do it anyway."

***

Sam did not want to open his eyes. He could feel that Castiel was not beside him. It was his first thought. Then he took a deep breath and processed the smells of cologne, grease and soap. He was at home. The sounds were familiar: Dean up way too early, clanking around in the kitchen, swearing occasionally, and music buzzing just under his perception.

Sam frowned when he heard the rumbling sound that was completely out of place in this home. Perhaps he had imagined it.

But there it was, quieter than the music, and yet in such a low tone that it carried powerfully across the whole apartment.

Castiel.

His eyes finally opened and his frown deepened. "Jesus," he swore. "Cas, what are you doing here?" He lifted himself from the bed and pulled on his running pants and one of Dean's grey tee shirts. He listened to the cackle of his brother and the bass of his lover responding while he brushed his teeth. He ran both hands through his hair and glared at the mirror before standing by the door to the living area, uncertain and silent.

He didn't even know what he would say to Castiel. What could he say? _You left without talking to me, and I got so angry I couldn't sleep in your bed, so I took off for home like a toddler who got his feelings hurt._ He cringed. Whatever he said, it shouldn't be that.

When he opened the door, he was hit with the smells of Dean cooking breakfast for a small army, and he could not help smiling.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" cried out the voice he had adored all his life, the one whose words he had waited for and hung on since he was a baby.

"Dude," he responded. "Asia?"

"You love this song and you know it."

"Yeah, and if I ever hear it again-"

Dean was turning the stereo up to drown out his words, and cupped his hand to his ear. "What? I can't hear you over how awesome my music is!"

Sam smirked at him, then sighed and turned to Castiel, who was waiting patiently in the stool at the bar.

"Hello, Sam."

"Hey, Cas."

Dean had his back to them, and was singing very deliberately.

Castiel cleared his throat. "Sam, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like a jerk all week, then left without settling things. You had every right to be upset. I handled things wrong, and I'm sorry."

Sam blinked. It was the perfect apology. It addressed everything he had felt, the hurt and confusion, the anger, and even the shame of possibly having overreacted. He stared at the man blankly.

Castiel took a breath. "I know we have some things to talk out, and I'm happy to spend as much time as you need doing that."

His mouth opened, but nothing came out, so he closed it again.

"Sam, it's my responsibility to make you feel safe and I failed this time."

He frowned. "Where did you go last night?"

He could tell Castiel was bristling a bit at being asked to explain himself. But he nodded to Dean. "I thought I remembered it was your brother's shift at the Roadhouse last night, so I headed there."

"You went to Dean while we were fighting?"

A dark eyebrow raised. "So did you, apparently. In spite of your brother's poor taste in music and his tendency to preach about cars and football, I find him surprisingly good company. And he tolerates me for your sake."

Sam could see Dean's shoulders moving with silent laughter, and he felt a small smile creep into his own face. "Wow. I mean, I wanted you guys to get along, but I don't know how to feel about you joining forces." He whirled on Dean suddenly. "Wait, what did you tell him?"

Without looking, Dean knew he was the one being addressed, and he did not miss a beat. "You should be more worried about what he tells me when he's drinking."

Castiel smirked. "Sam, unless Dallas Cowboys is somehow a code for you, you can rest assured that Dean had very little to say about you. Otherwise, you need to tighten up your defense and stop relying so much on some guys named Bryant and Murray."

"Dean likes to armchair coach the defense, but he always gives Dez and DeMarco free passes."

Castiel shook his head. "Yeah. I don't understand that reference."

Dean dropped two plates piled with eggs and toast on the bar. Sam noted with a pang of fondness that his brother had placed bacon on Sam's but not Castiel's. He remembered that his boyfriend did not eat pork, and he had made no comment about it.

It was far more comfortable eating with the two most important people in his life than he felt it should have been. Especially since he and Castiel still had some things to work out, not least of which the fact that Sam owed him an apology as well. But for now, he was perfectly content.

"Cas, I ever tell you how I came out to Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes, and stabbed into his own plate. He stood over the sink with his food, which Sam guessed was how he generally ate when he was alone in the morning. “Bringing back our greatest hits, Sammy?” he grumbled.

“He was trying to get me to hook up with this chick named Sarah. She was hot. I’ll admit she was hot.”

“And funny, artsy, sweet, and smart. Good choice, I thought.”

“Right. So after throwing me at her for like four hours at a party he dragged me to-"

“Kid was only sixteen,” Dean pointed out around the bacon in his mouth. “Just thought he was being shy.”

Sam laughed. “So he finally pulls me outside and points his beer at me and asks me what my problem is. I said I don’t get it. What do you care if I hook up? So he says-"

“And I stand by it!”

“He says maybe you wouldn’t be so cranky all the time.”

Dean grinned. “Cas, you’ve never seen a guy flip on the bitchface so fast. So I stared him down until he finally threw his hands up and suggested I screw myself because if Sarah was the best I could do, I obviously didn’t know a thing about him.”

Castiel held back a snicker.

“Yeah, laugh it up. It was hilarious. He shoved me at the wall, and took off down the road.”

“And that was how Dean found out he had raised a gay little brother.”

“I think it’s mainly because I was so incredibly hot when he was growing up.”

At this comment, Sam watched Castiel close his eyes and shake his head as if he could not calculate how many things were wrong with that.

“Just kidding, psych major,” the older man said with a wink. “Although it is true. I am exceptionally hot. Probably dangerously so. Keeps me up at night. If you know what I mean.”

Sam chuckled, and smacked Castiel on the arm. “See? This is what I grew up with.”

With a very serious expression, the man turned to his lover, took his hands, and said, “Sam, you are very lucky to have such a supportive brother. And you are very lucky to have survived childhood with him with as few emotional scars as you have.”

“Yeah. He thinks he’s funny.”

Dean shrugged and stuffed another handful of bacon in his mouth. “I think I’m adorable.”

***

The ride back to the house was quiet. Without even speaking, they reached a compromise over the radio, and settled on a pop punk and alternative station instead of metalcore and punk rock. Castiel glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye, then frowned. He licked his lips, and reached forward to set the station permanently into his presets. Sam noticed and smiled in silence, turning to watch out the window. He knew it was another example of Castiel making room for him in a life that was entirely solitary before him. The gesture was not a small one, not to Sam. Music had always been important to Dean, and he knew the house rules: shotgun shuts his cakehole. But whenever Sam had been sick or upset, Dean had put on a soft rock station for him, and he had never forgotten to be grateful for the decreased intensity. Castiel was as devoted to his music as Dean had ever been. Just as soft rock was Dean’s way of taking care of his little brother, this station was Castiel’s way of fitting Sam into his space.

When they walked into the apartment, Gabriel looked them both over, nodded, and grabbed his keys. “I’m heading out. Raf’s got a thing, so I’m pretending like I have somewhere else to be. If he calls, tell him I’m avoiding him.”

Sam smiled and nodded. He didn’t mean to, but he was beginning to like Gabriel. “See you later, Gabe. You coming back for dinner?”

“Cas says you can’t live on candy, weed and vagina. I’m trying a two week experiment to prove him wrong. So no. I’ll eat out.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Sam’s disgusted expression.

“That’s so gross. Go.”

Once the door had closed behind him, Castiel lifted his palms up, as if to show he had nothing hidden in them. “Okay, Sam,” he said as he turned to look up into the man’s eyes. “You want to talk?”

“Can we do that naked?”

Castiel’s mouth opened, then closed again as his head tilted absurdly. “What?”

“It’d be more fun.”

“Sam, are you messing with me?”

He laughed, and reached for one of the hands. “Maybe a little. Look, I overreacted, and I’m sorry. I’d just like to know why you’ve been in such a dark place for the past ten days. That’s all. It’s okay to be in a bad mood, but you gotta know I want to help you.”

“Is having a quarter-life crisis a good enough explanation? I’m nearly twenty-three. I think I’m entitled.”

Sam pulled him onto the couch. He frowned, reached underneath his leg and pulled out a package of licorice. He shook his head a bit, but simply tossed it onto the coffee table. Then he tugged at Castiel until the man gave in and curled up with his head on his plaid chest, and tucked his legs up. Sam’s arms went around him easily, and Castiel was nearly enveloped wholly inside. “You’re entitled,” he said finally. “So tell me about it. I’m just twenty, so I can’t possibly imagine what goes on in the mind of an old man like you.”

“Bite me, Winchester.”

Sam kissed the top of his head. “I’m listening,” he assured him.

Everything about Castiel was beautiful. Every splash of darkness and color across his skin, every piece of metal, and every modification was calculated to its smallest detail, to the most precise design. His body was impeccably toned, and lithe, and it obeyed him in a way Sam knew his own never would. Even his hair which seemed ever at odds with the rest of the world, was perfect in context with his personality. But Castiel’s eyes, now closed as his head lay on Sam’s strong chest, were infinitely more striking than any piece of art he had ever experienced. Fiercely, intensely blue, Sam was certain they could see into the souls of those around him. He had watched as Castiel had decoded the minds of those they spoke to with just one long look. It was no wonder his stare sometimes made others uncomfortable. Castiel saw things no one else could with those amazing eyes.

And then there were the hands. Castiel was in possession of uniquely beautiful hands. The fingers were long, delicate and deft. Sam found that he was staring at them resting on his own hands, as Castiel finally began to speak in a tone that rumbled through his back into Sam’s chest.

“Imagine what it was like for humans thousands of years ago.”

Sam smiled with a swell of fondness. It was exactly like Castiel to begin that way. He waited.

“Life was harder, but it was simpler. More natural. Those who weren’t strong enough just didn’t make it. Those who didn’t cooperate weren’t given the chance to try again. Those who couldn’t make themselves useful were pushed out. Power was given to those who were strong and smart, and to those who could manipulate others into thinking they were. We were never meant to be forgiving.”

“Forgiving.”

“Yeah. Nature isn’t forgiving. A bird who can’t figure out how to find food dies. A rabbit who doesn’t run fast enough gets eaten. A predator who is too lazy starves. Any creature who cannot withstand a virus falls to it. Nature doesn’t forgive failings. Individual faults are not acceptable in a world where death is around every corner.”

“Okay.”

“Do you believe in accidents?”

Sam frowned. When Castiel got philosophical, it felt like every question was a test. “Um. Yeah, I mean…Is this a free will question?”

“Maybe. Do you think the fact that any one person lives to old age, in spite of everything that could have gone wrong, is just an accident or what?”

He licked his lips, considering. “Cas, is this about you turning twenty-three? Because that’s really not that old.”

“No. Of course not. It’s about you.”

This, Sam had not expected. “About me?”

Castiel twisted in his boyfriend’s grip and looked up at him. “Yeah, you big puppy. You. Do you even know how many millions of things had to fall in place for you to be here right now, sitting on my couch, kissing my head?”

He frowned. “Am I really supposed to answer that?”

“Of course not, because we can never know. If I hadn’t posted a stupid flyer, if Charlie had never seen it, if she had dismissed it, if you had blown off meeting me, if you had felt just an ounce more uncomfortable with the whole scenario…And that’s not to mention everything that led us each to this university, in this city, in this state. Why am I not in Nepal or Vancouver right now? Why didn’t you choose another place when Dean told you to pick a hometown? For that matter, what would my life be like right now if your parents had never met? If their parents hadn’t? All the way back to Cain and Abel, Sam, anything could have gone differently.”

“But it didn’t.”

Castiel leaned back, away from Sam for a moment. “I know. And it’s this amazing thing. And it occurred to me a few days ago how incredible it all is, how unlikely the whole thing is. I suck pretty bad at statistics, Sam, but I’m pretty sure there was almost zero chance of this happening.”

Sam stared at him. “So…you’ve been upset for over a week because we might have never met?”

“No!” Castiel cried in frustration. “Because there is an equally infinite number of ways I can still mess it up!”

The younger man let his lips part, and he sat up straighter. “What?” he shouted.

The blue eyes were filled with worry, and the beautiful hands were wringing. “Sam, I’ve never needed anything, and I’ve never wanted anything I couldn’t figure out how to get or live without. I spent a month fasting and meditating in southeast Asia once, and it didn’t feel like last night without you. Once I started thinking about how unlikely it was for us to be together, I couldn’t help thinking about life without you. We’ve been together, what? How long?”

“Eight months. Almost nine.”

“Okay. Eight months in, and I can’t imagine life without you. And you know the worst part of it all? Even the worst part of last night? I kept thinking about nobody touching you.”

He frowned. Castiel was making him dizzy. “What?”

“Look, I know you think I’m crazy. I’m pretty sure I’m crazy. But I can’t get it out of my head.”

“I don’t understand, Cas, get what out of your head?”

The desperate look the man gave him said that this was the reason he had not brought it up before, that he knew it would make no sense out loud. “How you were when I met you. How much you needed to be touched. Eight months ago, it made me want to help you. Now, it breaks my heart in ways I can’t even express.”

Sam stopped breathing. He could feel his heart racing, could hear it, in fact.

“Sam, I know what this sounds like, and it’s why I haven’t been able to say it. Goddammit, Sam, we haven’t even been together a full freaking year yet. I know what it sounds like. But, god, Sam, I have to be the one to give you that. I know what that sounds like. I can’t think of any other way to say it and still be honest. I have to be the one taking care of you. I have to. And there are a million ways I could mess it all up, and I’d spend the rest of my life just aching for you, knowing that I could have been the one to make you happy and safe. I can’t get it out of my head.”

Sam was quiet for a long while, and Castiel closed his eyes while he waited, as if he could not bear Sam’s gaze. Aside from his own big brother, a man he had idolized his whole life, this man sitting there with his eyes squeezed shut was the strongest human Sam had ever known. He had watched Castiel take grown men apart with only his gaze and a confident sneer, had watched him stare down guys twice his size without a word, at the Roadhouse, or when someone whispered something disparaging as he passed by, either about his proximity to Sam or his modifications. Once, at the bar, a slur had caught his sharp ears, spewed in Sam’s direction, and Sam had grabbed Dean’s arm before he could move and nodded at Castiel, who had taken just one step toward the man, with a slow, dangerous smile on his face, and had offered the man a chance to take back his words. The man had quickly opted to finish his beer elsewhere.

This man, who feared nothing in life, certainly not pain or shame, was completely and irrationally consumed by the idea that Sam might one day need him, and he would not be there to provide for him.

“So, wait. You’ve been biting people’s heads off, and avoiding talking to me…because you want to make me happy.”

Castiel’s fierce eyes opened, and he looked for a moment as if he was going to respond, but then dropped his chin to his chest with an uncharacteristic whimper.

“Cas…”

“I need to be the one to watch over you.” The voice was quiet, alarmingly so.

Sam frowned. “Cas, are you…are you okay?”

“No,” he breathed. “I didn’t realize it until last week. I’m really not okay.”

He took a deep breath, and reached again for those beautiful hands. He ducked his head to try to meet his lover’s gaze. “You're breaking apart, Angel. Just tell me how to help you. If you were me, and I were you, what would you do for me?”

The eyes lifted now, and they were blinking back tears which were already collecting in his dark lashes. “I’d…” He paused to sniff back emotion. “I’d tell you that I love you. That you’re good enough. That nothing is going to come along and take me away from you. That no matter how hard you try to push me away, I’ll keep pulling you back in. Because you’re not the only one who thinks maybe he’d die to keep this. You’re not crazy. That this, us living together, and knowing one another so well that it’s painful, that it scares me too, but we’ll have our whole lives to figure it all out.”

Sam put one of Castiel’s hands on his face, and mirrored it with his own on his. It made his heart ache to see the strong man surrender to the touch, to lean into it as if it might be the last time. He looked into Castiel’s eyes with utter sincerity. “Castiel, I love you. You’re good enough. And I’m in this for always. I’m not going to push you away, and I’m not going to let you push me away. If you think I wouldn’t fight for us, I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you just how wrong you are.”

For the first time in all the time they had known one another, Sam watched Castiel let all his weight fall against his lover as he began to weep.

***

The best part of the party so far, in Charlie's opinion, was when Gabriel had tried to hit on Jo, and she had knocked him on his ass. He had not bothered to get up, and had demanded that all drinks be brought to him on the floor for the rest of the night. Somehow, that had led to a significant percentage of the guests lounging about like they were telling campfire stories instead of listening to Gabriel describe every embarrassing detail of his friendship with the guest of honor.

"How'd you get him to change his mind?"

Sam smiled at her. "Charlie, I'm pre-law. How do I get anyone to change their minds? I display the argument in logical terms and appeal to their sense of what is right."

Charlie glanced at Dean. "So puppy dog eyes?"

"Oh yeah," Dean confirmed. "Kid crumbled so fast, I nearly felt sorry for him. He hasn't built up an immunity like I have."

Charlie laughed at Sam's smug smile, and turned to watch Jo roll her eyes at another male advance. "So Pamela's friend."

"I thought you'd never ask," Dean said as he leapt from his seat and grabbed Charlie's hand. "Jo, did I ever introduce you to Sammy's friend Charlie? She's some kind of engineering or graphic something major-I don't know. But I think you two have a lot in common." Dean raised his eyebrows just in case Jo had missed his point.

The blond rolled her eyes. "Wow, Dean. Very subtle."

He turned to face Charlie. "She's a closeted Dean-sexual, but in the meantime, she pretends she's gay. And she stared at you for ten minutes when you walked in." He winked at Jo. "Subtle enough?" He sauntered toward his little brother again.

Charlie giggled at Jo's exasperation and shrugged. "I can help you kick his ass, if you want."

Jo smiled. "This could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

The redhead sighed happily. She loved birthday parties.

***

If he heard the flat tire story again, he was probably going to have to cut Gabriel off and set the record straight. After all, he was leaving out the part where Castiel had saved his ass from passing out drunk in the gutter in the first place, making him a less than reliable source for the story.

He looked around the room. He was surprised by the crowd. Even Raf had come, though he was not what Castiel would call a good friend or even good company. Anyway, Sam had gone to quite a bit of trouble to get everyone there.

He had given in when Dean had explained the significance of birthdays. Sam had never had a birthday to remember fondly as a child. When his father had not been entirely sober, he had always referred to Sam's birthday as November second. It was, of course, May second, but the date six months later was the night his mother had died in the house fire. After hearing his father mistakenly mark his birthday on forms or vocally as November second one too many times, Sam had told Dean he just wanted May second to come and go without anyone bringing it up, since John seemed to associate his son's birth with his wife's death. But when the day arrived, Dean had always found some quiet way to celebrate it, to remind Sam that he was happy he was there. Dean had told him that everyone deserves a day to be glad they're alive.

So when Sam had asked again, he had given in. It had made the younger man so happy, that he could not truly mind.

He and Pamela had spent a large portion of the night comparing notes on bands and concerts, and after several drinks each, she had convinced him to take off his tee and show her his ink. Dean had suddenly felt the need to join them at that point.

"Cas, you stripping for my girl?"

He blinked at the man, then smiled. "Only because she asked me to."

Dean smirked. "Awesome. Okay, might as well let me see the wings my little brother whimpers into his tequila about."

Castiel's smile softened, and he felt a warmth filling him. "Does he?"

Green eyes rolled. "You're kidding, right? That trip you took to that music festival, I spent all weekend cleaning him up off the floor and hearing about angel wings. So? Let me see."

Castiel turned and rounded his shoulders, waiting for the reaction he loved.

"Holy shit, dude. That's freaking badass! The way Sam talks, you'd think you had these little cute cartoon angel wings. Those are hardcore!"

Pamela burst into laughter.

There was nothing that quite compared to hearing the various ways someone appreciated his artwork. He pulled his shirt back on and turned back to Dean. "Angels are warriors of Heaven. They mete out God's wrath and they bestow his judgement. The brightest of all angels was Lucifer, and the strongest is Michael, who is meant to battle against him when he tries to rise again. Angels are fierce. There's nothing cute about them."

There was a large hand on the back of his neck suddenly, and he heard his lover disagree. "They're fierce. But sometimes they're also cute without knowing it."

Castiel rolled his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments about these stories are to me what reactions to his ink are to Castiel.


End file.
